


Words

by ClutteredHeadspace



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:24:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6738115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClutteredHeadspace/pseuds/ClutteredHeadspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a word that defines them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Useless

Useless.  
It was a word that had followed him around in one shape or another his entire life.  
Useless, a weapon with incredible potential but too high-strung for the clumsy too-tight grip of his fellow students.  
Useless, a kid too young to know how to handle the disturbing psychosis of his Meister and best friend.  
Useless, a weapon nearly completed, tossed aside by the one hand in who's grip he could fly. Betrayal burned into his soul as permanently as the scars stitched across his skin.  
Useless, months spent in painful isolation, waiting with the loyalty of a beaten dog for it's master to return.  
Useless, words spat at him by the girl he was coming to love as their resonance fell apart again. Her grip too tight, her wavelength too stiff, the burden to yield and adapt left only on his shoulders. It wasn't a good match, but the bright focus in her eyes, the calculating way she would look at his blade were an echo of familiarity in a world gone gray and empty.  
Useless, as he shuddered in pain and exhaustion. Months of soul rejection mapped out in burned scars across the fibers of his being, damage too deep for her soul perception to see  
Useless, he falls from nerveless fingers, her dreams of glory shattering around her as she stares at the reddened skin of her palms. The Deathscythe she'd forged now more than she can handle.  
Useless, he watches as she leaves on missions with another at her side as he cradles the only evidence of their love in his arms.  
Useless, screamed at him as she's ordered to stay in the city so he can serve his God.  
Useless, silent condemnation as she drives him from their home and their bed, the curious eyes of their daughter watching him go.  
Useless, when he quietly pays the credit-card bill with hotel rooms he never used.  
Useless, as he stares at the positive pregnancy test he found in the bathroom that morning, taken by a wife he hadn't made love to in months.  
Useless, as he hands her the divorce papers.  
Useless, as he listens to his daughter scream at him, not correcting her misinformation.  
Useless, as he drowns another night in amber liquid. Throat numb to the burn of it sliding down.  
Useless, as he stands in his God's shadow and watches the world crumble around them. The Kishen freed, the witches rampant, his daughter fighting for her life.  
Useless.  
Useless.  
Useless.


	2. Papa

Papa.   
That word paints the shades of her world.   
Papa, warm hands and low spoken words in the dark as she presses toddler chubby cheeks against his throat.   
Papa, bright smile and happy laughter tossing her in the sun and curled round her painting a world of magic with words.   
Papa, long legs hanging off the edge of the couch in yesterdays clothes.   
Papa, not meeting Mama's eyes in the kitchen.   
Papa, kissing her cheek and saying he loves Maka and Mama most.   
Papa, pride in her chest as she kisses him when he leaves for work in the morning.   
Papa, the best weapon in the DWMA but Mama won't let him in her room.   
Papa, arm curving around the waist of a woman she doesn't know smiling wide.   
Papa, glass in his hand as he talks to all the women but Mama who keeps her back to him on the other side of the room. In the pictures their smiles are forced.   
Papa, tip-toeing in the door as she watches cartoons at dawn on Saturday morning.   
Papa, a word hissed by Mama as she teaches Maka the basic combat stances.   
Papa, closed curtains and the rattle of an aspirin bottle.   
Papa, angry words in the kitchen after she's gone to bed and missing shoes when she wakes up for school.   
Papa, a flare of hurt in her heart as Mama slams cupboard doors.   
Papa, pale skinned and red eyed when she finds the divorce papers on Mama's bedside table.   
Papa, quietly packing while Mama shrieks at him.   
Papa, traitor and betrayer. Womanizer and drunk.   
Papa, the reason Mama doesn't smile unless she's talking about a mission.   
Papa, the reason Mama doesn't come home.   
Papa, an enemy she needs to vanquish so Mama can be happy.   
Papa, the benchmark that she needs Soul to surpass.   
Papa, sad eyes and frantic energy as he watches her from the shadows of the school.   
Papa, flying with power and control around the Professor, balance and reactions faster than she can follow.   
Papa, a warm hand on her shoulder and low spoken words as she presses her face into his shoulder while Soul bleeds.   
Papa, green eyes the same shade as hers serious where they'd only ever laughed.   
Papa, waving up at her as darkness crashes in around him.   
Papa, silent and smelling of whiskey when she finds him with with a cracked mask in his hands, silent tears on his cheek.   
Papa. Betrayer, Saviour,and Drunkard.  
Papa. Loyal and kind, human and weak.  
Papa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cause we know who has Daddy issues.


	3. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You become what you believe yourself to be.

Madness.  
Bitter on his tongue, pretty to his ears.   
Madness, sent to a 'special school' too young, too soon. It was either that or the ward in juvie.   
Madness, telling your mother in excitement about the bright colours around everyone you meet.   
Madness, beautiful ruby red, bright and glistening a siren song to the curiosity that defines him.   
Madness, a soul so bright it blinded him wrapped in hair his favorite colour. How could he resist the opportunity to touch, to hold?  
Madness, he doesn't understand the turbulence in his weapons wavelength, the faint echos of emotion it leaves in him odd and foreign.   
Madness, the teaches watch him suspiciously, missing the guilt in Spirits eyes and the dirt under his weapons nails.   
Madness, so unstable, so strong, what divides Meister and Weapon?  
Madness, Spirit never mentions the stitches that tug uncomfortably when he moves.   
Madness, he frowns in confusion, who has been experimenting on his weapon? That blade, that soul belong to him and him alone.   
Madness, washing blood off his hands each morning has become routine.   
Madness, boredom, he doesn't remember why he left the academy for medical school.   
Madness, Lord death in a mirror asking him to come home.   
Madness, a girl with his weapons eyes and someone else's features grips a scythe too tight.   
Madness, black blood raining down, world painted not in black and white, but shades of ruby.   
Madness, a static song on a broken radio.   
Madness, a lone eye full of love blinded to the indifference looking back.   
Madness, he doesn't understand the Kishen. What is this fear he talks of.   
Madness, he should be afraid.   
Madness, he isn't.   
Madness, smile, he says he's fine.   
Madness.


	4. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.

Obsession.  
She doesn't have a problem. What's wrong with being passionate?  
Obsession, sure she's a little boy crazy.  
Obsession, what's wrong with wanting to be loved?  
Obsession, her quirk makes her one hell of a weapon. The Meister's love to wield her.  
Obsession, she's just devoted, loyal.  
Obsession, she wasn't like this when she had binocular vision. When the youthful enthusiasm of her brown eyed Meister led them to take that mission.  
Obsession, she didn't talk for weeks when she awoke alone in the hospital.  
Obsession, she doesn't tell anyone she sees perfectly from behind her eye-patch. It's how she knows that every Meister that takes hold of her is blonde haired and brown eyed.  
Obsession, why doesn't anyone want to stay with her?  
Obsession, alone, abandoned, those are bad words for a weapon.  
Obsession, he doesn't care.  
Obsession, he doesn't see her, it's ok, she doesn't recognize pictures of him, confused that they show him as gray-haired. Perhaps the camera's are defective.  
Obsession, when they graduate he walks away.  
Obsession, she's a serial dater.  
Obsession, but they all leave her bed when she calls out his name.  
Obsession, perhaps she's a bit... intense.  
Obsession, he comes back to her when the world ends.  
Obsession, she won't let him leave again.  
Obsession, she's got a part of him now forever.  
Obsession, in her eyes his brown eyes are beautiful, his blonde hair impossibly soft.  
Obsession, he doesn't care what name she calls out.  
Obsession, he won't leave her again.  
Obsession, they're perfect for each other. She keeps him sane, he keeps her secrets.  
Obsession.  
He's hers.


	5. Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this one.

Look  
There's only one thing that he's ever wanted.  
Look, he grew up hearing the whispers.  
Look, their eyes always drifted away from him.  
Look, a child doesn't understand why they are different.  
Look, the blame always landed on him even when guilt stained Maka's features.  
Look, he's tired of being ignored.  
Look, he decides that there's only one thing he can do about the whispers.  
Look, he pushes harder, faster, louder.  
Look, the dead are gone but he's still here.  
Look, there was never a doubt that this child of death would enter the academy.  
Look, the groans he hears when he enters a room are better then the whispers.  
Look, she's tall, gentle eyes and patient smile.  
Look, she always listens when he talks.  
Look, he's aiming for the stars.  
Look, he's a god slumming among the mortals.  
Look, a god regrets nothing.  
Look, a god fears nothing.  
Look, Kid better watch out.  
Look, when they whisper there's only one star they talk about now.  
Look, he looked into the blackness and flipped it the bird.  
Look, he's never done what was expected.  
Look, they'll never forget his name.  
Look, when a tiny fist grips his fingers he knows.  
Look, sleepy eyes flutter open caught somewhere between her parents shades of blue.  
Look. Someone finally seems him.  
Look, a smile.  
Look.  
Look.  
She'll never even have to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really dunno where this one went. I guess I have a deep seated believe that one day black star is gonna knock tsubaki up. The fact is apparently unavoidable.


	6. Listen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because cool's just a cover.

Listen  
Honestly, that's really all he ever wanted. It's not a cool thing though.  
Listen, hissed reprimand, whisper soft as he's forced to watch yet another recital.  
Listen, when small chubby hands strain to bridge the distance of the chords.  
Listen, snapped at him as he falls out of sync with the metronome again.  
Listen, he battles stage fright standing reluctantly in the wings.  
Listen, he hates Chopin.  
Listen, Wes they say. Wes, Wes, Wes.  
Listen, it's not supposed to be a funeral march.  
Listen, each recital feels like it should be though.  
Listen, ears that can detect the faintest falter of pace or pitch can't hear his voice.  
Listen, when the blade that replaces his hand tears through the baby grand like tissue paper.  
Listen, they complain about the practice time he'll lose waiting for the repairs to finish.  
Listen, the schools loud, a chaotic symphony tuning themselves without a conductor.  
Listen, its the only thing he tells her as he leads her to the dusty music room.  
Listen, there's no fear in her eyes when he finishes his song.  
Listen, it's her biggest complaint about him.  
Listen, she never interrupts him.  
Listen, that makes her pretty cool.  
Listen, neither of them are good at that once they start yelling.  
Listen, and he'd always thought artists were the temperamental ones.  
Listen, it takes them years.  
Listen, it takes the end of the world.  
Listen, before he realizes she'd always had.  
Listen, just not to his words.  
Listen, can you hear it?  
Listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is what makes Maka special to him.


End file.
